


Here or Hereafter

by PuckishElf, Tikkunthisfuckingolam



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Puzzleshipping, Violetshipping, Yeah you heard me right, but the fluffiest most g-rated puzzleshipping u ever did see, idiots to lovers high school slowburn, it's only rated T for Teen cause eventually someone's gonna drop an F-bomb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuckishElf/pseuds/PuckishElf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikkunthisfuckingolam/pseuds/Tikkunthisfuckingolam
Summary: "Oh no, little son of Horus, this is not your happy ending. You are going to stay on this plane--stay, andsufferfor me."After the ceremonial duel, just as Atem moves to cross the boundary between life and death, a terrible force prevents him. Gifted with a new body, but hounded by a new, invisible enemy, he, Yuugi, and their friends must stop this mysterious assailant--and Atem must decide how much this second chance at life is worth to him.
Relationships: Atem/Mutou Yuugi, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29
Collections: Fanfiction For All Fics





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-write of a fic I posted to ff.net in 2008-2009 as username Ashari, previously entitled “The End." It was the longest fanfiction I've ever written at over 24,000 words, but I had somehow burned myself out on the fic and then fallen out of the fandom. Recently though, one of my friends dragged me back down into card game hell, so this fic is dedicated to her (tikkunthisfuckingolam). 
> 
> Tikkun went from inspiration, to plotting partner, to beta, to Actual Editor, to legitimate co-author on this fic. This body of work would not exist without her. Thank you Tikkun, so much. <3
> 
> Going to try to stay consistent with the names and forms of address used in the Japanese version of the show and in the manga, but some of the dub terms may accidentally creep in, just by virtue of that's how Tikkun refers to things, and she rubs off on me in our endless meta discussions. Hope no one minds.

The light seemed so welcoming, almost warm. He could still hear the cries of his partner and his friends behind him, could almost feel their tears, but they all knew—didn't they know?--this was where he belonged. He didn't want to leave them, either, but what choice did he have? They had all known that this day would come...and the light beckoned.

He stepped forward, one purposeful stride after another towards the open Doors of Wdjat. A flicker of something beyond the threshold caught his eye. A familiar face? No-- familiar faces. All of them--Mahaad, Mana, his father...

The flicker vanished.

**_"You don't get to leave, Pharaoh."_ **

He barely had time to register the unfamiliar male voice before, somehow, _pain_ ripped its way through his form, incorporeal and spiritual as it was. It burned as it tore through him, real in a way that consumed his every breath, tangible in a way that memory could never be. He felt like an unseen fire was burning through every cell, stripping away every nerve. How, _how_ could fire touch spirit, burn flesh that wasn't there?

Atem fell to his knees, gasping from the onslaught of agonizing sensation.

 **_"Oh no, little son of Horus," crooned the voice, "this is not your happy ending. You are going to stay on this plane--stay, and_ ** **suffer** **_for me."_ **

_Who—how—what—_

The confused, desperate questions his mind had managed to throw together burnt to ash as another wave of that horrific, inexplicable _hurt_ raged through him once more. He didn't realize he was screaming at first, wondering what that high, ragged roar was—he almost thought he could _feel_ it, ripping through lungs that shouldn't exist--

The world pitched and tilted. The ground rushed up to meet him. Dimly, he thought he could hear the cries of his friends just before he was swallowed by darkness.

* * *

He felt small and light--a grain of sand kicked up by a quick wind dancing over the dunes--carrying him in swirling patterns over worried voices spiking high and drifting low; frantic words and calming whispers. Just when it felt like perhaps he would settle again, everything would drift away, intangible as the breeze. Time seemed to ebb and flow around him, the dunes shifting; he was nothing more than a speck in the endless sands of time, buried and uncovered, only to be buried again.

And then, for one moment, he thought he saw the inside of the Millennium Puzzle—the labyrinth that his soul had been, composed of fear and uncertainty, devoid of memory, swallowed by the dark. His whole soul lurched, a wretched terror clawing at him, and then—a voice. So familiar, familiar and dear, and he reached for it, latched on, and pulled.

The darkness began to dissipate.

He opened bleary eyes to a world that was nothing more than a blur of colors, and blinked, willing his gaze—and his mind—to focus. A familiar face coalesced from his hazy vision--violet eyes wide and dark with worry.

" _Mou hitori no boku_!" A pause. "Atem... can you hear me?" The voice was hushed and tremulous, desperation and worry deep enough that even through the fog of semi-consciousness, Atem could feel his heart clench. It called to him, like a hand reaching out of the dark, a lifeline and a plea for help all at once.

"Ai... aibou..." his answer came, barely audible, but still an undeniable sound reaching back for connection.

"How are you feeling?" The relief that had lit up Yuugi's eyes at Atem's response faded back into worry as he rested a cool hand against Atem's forehead.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes at the blessed coolness of Yuugi’s touch, then opened them again in wonder—he could _feel_ Yuugi's hand. Touch. Coolness. Yuugi's fingers were solid and he could feel the slight give in their pads as they pressed against him-- different from the odd buzzing sensation of when his partner brushed up against his spiritual form. Was this a dream?

"Aibou. What…" Atem swallowed with difficulty, his brow furrowing at how inexplicably dry his mouth was (and marveling at every sensation; they all felt so physical, so _real_ ). He tried to wet his lips, but to no avail. "What's going on...?"

"Ah…!" Yuugi didn't answer, but scurried to the small table on the far side of the room holding a pitcher and cup of water; he filled the cup and hurried back. "I'm sorry! You must be thirsty, huh?" Gently, but in full confidence of his strength, he slid a hand under Atem's back to help him upright. "Here you go." His partner smiled apologetically.

The Pharaoh's first instinct was to protest that Yuugi needn't trouble himself by helping him to sit up, but his eyes widened as he realized it—he really _couldn't_ sit up on his own. He was nearly too weak to move. Confusion hammered even more intensely on his skull as he drank from the offered cup.

He brought his hands up to lay atop Yuugi's, to gently take the cup from him--and he stiffened against the pillows behind him. His hands were...dark skin made wan by long sickness and the pale wash of hospital light... _solid_. He couldn't see Yuugi's hands through them.

Once Yuugi had set the cup down and placed himself at his other self's side, Atem tried again. His eyes were wide, his fixed stare stricken as if he'd just had the wind knocked out of him.

"What... _happened_? You won the ceremonial duel. The Doors of Wdjat opened. So why am I...?” Atem's eyes drifted around the room, tracing out the hospital bed he lay in, the IV stand to his right, the window to the hall where a nurse wheeled a patient along, before his crimson gaze returned to Yuugi, seeking answers in the wonderfully familiar lines of his face.

The worry around Yuugi's eyes tightened with a sadness he tried hard to banish. “I _did_ win.” Seeing that clearly as the source of the sadness made Atem's heart clench. “And the doors opened, yeah, but...don't you remember? You were walking up to them, to...” Atem nearly looked away as Yuugi slowly swallowed to push down his pain. “...to pass _on_ , and then there was this voice. It came out of nowhere, and you...” Another rough swallow. “...you started _screaming_...”

Oh, he remembered _that_ part all right. But it was the implications that stole the air from his lungs-- _he had lungs again_. It was a moment before Atem could speak. He tried to, but the words got stuck in his mouth; he swallowed them down, roughly, and tried again.

“So I’m...alive.” He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth. “That _voice_ wanted me to stay...and _did_ something...and now I’m. In a real human body. Alive.”

“It certainly seems that way.” Yuugi's reach for dry humor came across as more concerned than wry, uncertainty making his eyes drop from Atem's face to his own wringing hands. His face fell, anxiety overtaking it once again. “Are you...not happy about that?” Atem knew that look on his partner’s face. Having shared a body with him, he knew the face that Yuugi made when his heart thundered hard enough to shorten his breath and swell his throat.

Atem’s eyes widened. _That_ was the source of his partner’s distress. Without a second thought, he reached over and lay a hand atop Yuugi’s. “I’m not _un_ happy, Aibou. Of course I didn’t _want_ to go, but I…” An anxiety that he couldn’t quite name burned in his chest, but he pushed it down. “...I didn’t think there would be a _choice_ , or...anything like _this_.”

Yuugi felt Atem’s pause hang in the air. He searched his other self’s face, waiting. Silence stretched.

“...But?”

Atem blinked. He didn’t quite _intend_ for there to be a _but_ at first...uncanny. They were in separate bodies now, but Yuugi still seemed to have no trouble at all reading his heart. “... _but_ , whoever that voice was...didn’t sound like they had any good intentions for keeping me in this world.”

Yuugi bit his lip, almost as if to hide a wince. His silence made Atem blink; he was expecting his usually-candid partner to elaborate on the reaction, but no explanation came. Instead, he said, “...we never found the source of the voice. We searched the temple, the Kul Elna dig site, the whole _area_ high and low...even after the Millennium Stone shattered and fell into the earth, and took the Items with it--some of the pillars of the temple came down, so we had to be careful coming back in--”

Atem let out a strangled noise. “The Millennium Items are _gone_?”

Yuugi’s nod was solemn. “Yep. All of them. I saw the Puzzle shatter as we ran out.”

Wide-eyed, Atem relaxed back against the pillows, a long breath leaving his new body. He was silent for a moment, incredulous and in wonder. “So I’m really free,” he muttered. He closed his eyes. “Thank the _gods_.”

Atem felt Yuugi’s hand close over his, and squeeze. He lay like that for a moment, just holding Yuugi’s hand, and breathing. _Breathing_.

With his eyes closed again, fatigue started to tug at him, but he pushed it away. He was awake. He was _alive_. He was going to just...soak this up and hold it in, for a moment. The warmth of Yuugi’s hand. The scratchiness of the hospital sheets. The smell of industrial cleaner and tapioca pudding. Yuugi had been freely sharing physical sensations with Atem as they’d shared a body...and then there were the months he would rather forget, the time he spent as the _only_ soul in Yuugi’s body, while Doma held Yuugi’s soul captive...so he hadn’t been starved of them. But this body was _his,_ every sensation was _his_ , in a way that none had truly been for thousands of years. And the warm feel of Yuugi’s hand...the solidity of it, of _him_...Atem had been missing that. He hadn’t been able to interact with his partner like he had with others. He was content to just spend a moment reveling in that.

Until he heard a soft, hesitant, “Atem?” next to him. He opened his eyes and offered up a smile to his partner.

“I’m awake, Aibou.” He squeezed Yuugi’s hand.

Yuugi only nodded. A wan smile flashed on his face, and then vanished. He sat in silence, and his gaze slid away from Atem’s eyes.

Atem frowned, worry knitting his eyebrows together. “...Aibou,” he began softly. He paused, unsure of how to say it. “...For the first time since we met, we aren’t able to hear the other’s thoughts, or feel the other’s heart...but I can _feel_ how upset you are, as clearly as I feel your hand.” Yuugi’s worry, his anxiety, his uncertainty and flashes of sadness, hadn’t gone unnoticed; they lingered in the air around them. “Please...can you tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can…”

At first, Yuugi’s look was incredulous--but then it flashed through anger, heartbreak, and despair, before settling on a flustered, indignant worry. “What’s _wrong_ ? You’re _kidding_ , right?” Atem’s eyes widened as Yuugi raised his voice, just a little--but a little was enough. “You’re lying in a _hospital bed_! I thought I was going to--you were _screaming_ , Other Me! It was bad _enough_ that I’d beat you in the duel and sent you through those doors, but--Atem, you’ve been in a _coma_ for a _month_. No one could figure out what was _wrong_ with you, not even Kaiba-kun’s special doctors. One of the doctors who’s got some specialty in alternative medicine thought that you were like--like a _newborn_ , no scars, none of the wear-and-tear of just _living_ \--and that the fever and the pain and the coma must’ve just been your body’s way of catching up, of living all that life at once? Oh, I don’t _know…_!” He huffed out a sigh, frustrated, helpless. “Other Me, we didn’t know…” Atem’s breath caught as tears pooled in Yuugi’s eyes. “We didn’t know if you’d _ever_ wake up. You getting to go home to your family and friends through the Doors of Wdjat was one thing, but _this_? _Not_ like this…!” His voice faltered, shuddering to a whisper before failing him.

Shock caught in his throat; Atem stared at Yuugi wide-eyed as he tried to make sense of all of that. To say nothing of Kaiba _actually helping him_ , to say nothing of his mysterious ailment, or the fact that he’d been unconscious for an entire _month_...the insistent thought of _he’s worried about me, why?_ clashed with the thought _of course he is, don’t be stupid,_ and the two thoughts tussled with each other round and round until his brain was a buzzing, jumbled mess. 

Only one thought mattered, though. Atem reached up and thumbed Yuugi’s tears away.

“Aibou…” He wrapped both of his dark hands around one of Yuugi’s pale ones (and for a moment the sight gave him a thrill; this is how he’s _supposed_ to look, this is how it was _supposed_ to be all along). “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m okay now, though.”

Yuugi smiled at him, exasperated and fond, and sniffed. “You still have a fever, you dummy.”

Ah, so _that_ was why Yuugi’s hand had felt so cool on his forehead. “But I won’t have a fever forever. And all of this won’t be a mystery forever. We’ll figure out the answers--together.” Smiling, he squeezed his hand. “I get to stay with you, and we’ll figure this out.”

The tension wrapped around Yuugi’s smile began to unravel. He stood, smoothed Atem’s bangs back, and kissed his forehead. “I’m gonna call the others and tell them you’re awake. Just rest and focus on getting better, okay? We’ll be home soon.”

Atem let his hands slide away from Yuugi’s, and he relaxed back into the sheets. His smile lingered, contentment washing over him. _Home_. He closed his eyes.

Yuugi stepped into the hall, moving away from the patient rooms and into this floor’s waiting room, where family, friends and lovers were huddled on their own phones, providing updates in hushed voices. He stopped, pulled his phone from his pocket, and stared blankly at it. He found himself biting his lip again, and didn’t bother to stop this time.

Atem’s words pounded in his ears like his anxious heartbeat.

 _“I’m not_ un _happy, Aibou.”_

But that didn’t mean he was _happy_ , either. 

The thought clawed at his chest, and more thoughts followed it like a pack of ravenous wolves, threatening to shred the air inside his lungs. What if he didn’t really _want_ to be here? What if he was disappointed, and just didn’t want to say it? After everything they’d been through, all the battles to help Atem regain his lost sense of self, his history, his connections with the people he once knew, the end of the line was...the afterlife. Except this wasn’t the end. Atem _had_ to be disappointed at that, right? 

Worse still--they’d never found any sign of that creepy voice, or any sign of _what_ could have possibly caused a body to materialize around Atem’s spirit. What if, somehow...Yuugi’s own feelings had caused this? What if he wanted his other self to stay so badly that this had just _happened--_ and now his other self was _suffering_ for it--?

Yuugi blinked. He was squeezing his phone in a desperate, shaking fist. He forced his hand to relax, suddenly worried he might have broken the cheap little flip-phone; he inspected it frantically, found no damage, and forced himself to breathe out a long, steadying sigh.

He couldn’t keep thinking like this. Yuugi took a seat, then took in and let out a few more deep breaths. Worrying himself into a tizzy wasn’t going to solve anything. Atem was here, and he had committed to solving this puzzle as a team. Yuugi couldn’t worry about whether Atem wanted to be on Earth or not--he just had to believe in his other self, and that was all.


	2. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _‘Cause though the truth may vary this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore._ "

_Ring. Ring._

Blue eyes glared down at the telephone from under brunette bangs, daring the device to continue its persistent annoyance.

_Ring. Ring. Ri—_

Seto Kaiba seized the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

“What?”

“Kaiba-sama, another message from Iger-sama…”

“Isono. Didn’t I already tell you to give my answer to that man?”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama…but…this wasn’t about the Kaibaland proposition. Iger-sama wanted to know if you would join him for a more…casual get-together. A sporting event, perhaps. He said he was eager to have you meet his wife and daughters.”

Seto raised an eyebrow. “His family? Really.”

“If I might say so, Kaiba-sama…I would take him up on that. It’s not a good idea to make a stranger--or an enemy--out of the CEO of one of the world’s most influential entertainment corporations…”

“I know that, Isono,” Seto returned. “A ‘casual get-together,’ huh? Sounds doable. Check my schedule. And make sure not to book anything ridiculous; no basketball or American football.”

“Yes sir. Should I check Mokuba-sama’s schedule as well?”

Seto froze with his finger over the phone’s release button. “Say again?”

“Iger-sama requested that this be a ‘family’ event. He said it would be good to meet your family, Kaiba-sama…”

Seto's brow furrowed in disgust. So Iger planned to parade his wife and daughters before him like some sort of tool, a shield to hide his true machinations? Did he think that just because Seto was still in high school that he could be easily 'won over' and manipulated? For all that he had adopted a cold mask to even Mokuba while in public, the idea of using a family as a political play or business scheme was abhorrent to him. He had no intention of pandering to the American's ego, nor did he want to involve Mokuba in what was sure to be just another foreign businessman who thought he could usurp KaibaCorp by appealing to those 'poor lonely kids'.

"Isono, let Iger know that I have more important things to do than to prance around a golf course or eat cheap popcorn at a stadium,” he spat. “If he wants to meet with me, he can meet with me face to face for an _actual_ reason."

“As you say, Kaiba-sama.”

Seto slammed the receiver into its cradle, lips twisting in distaste.

His eyes flickered towards the digital clock next to the phone. 11:59.

Frown still fixed on his face, Seto pulled a stack of papers towards him and began leafing through them.

A knock sounded on the door just as the clock’s numbers flickered to 12:00.

“Come in.”

“Nii-sama?”

Seto looked up, eyes meeting the sight of his younger brother timidly opening the office door. “Mokuba.”

“It’s noon, Nii-sama.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“I was…wondering if you…wanted to…maybe step out for a while? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“I’ve been very busy,” the older Kaiba replied matter-of-factly. He returned to the stack of papers and began thumbing through them.

Mokuba’s eyes fell to the carpet. He idly picked at a thread on his shirt, becoming increasingly embarrassed. “I know that,” he answered quickly, and then, as if the sound of his own voice gave him confidence, he looked up at his older brother and moved further into the office. “But I think it would be good to go _out_ for lunch. Just for a change. What do you think, Nii-sama?”

Seto’s eyes, normally cool and unaffected as a frozen pond, looked up from his papers and melted just a bit when they rested on the face of his kid brother. For a long moment, he simply regarded Mokuba in silence, struggling with the question of whether or not to let the boy’s admiring, mournful look pierce his heart.

The young executive closed his eyes, releasing an only partially exaggerated sigh as he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. "I suppose it couldn't hurt this once," he mused, opening his eyes to watch happiness sneak like a sunrise over Mokuba's face. "Just don't take us somewhere messy. I have another meeting this afternoon and I'd rather not have to change clothes."

Mokuba’s face spread into a smile, his eyes lighting up with joy--and just a _bit_ of mischief. He nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, Nii-sama. I know just the place.”

* * *

The only sound in the air was the soft purr of the limousine’s engine, but even though no words were exchanged, Mokuba was clearly brimming with delight. He kept up a steady rhythm of tapping his feet on the limousine floor, looking out the window and grinning, and looking over at Seto and smiling, simply basking in the fact that his brother was near after so long. The aforementioned brother sat silent in the seat across from him, arms folded, gazing out the window with half-lidded, contemplative eyes.

Suddenly, Seto blinked.

“Mokuba. What is this place you have in mind?” Seto’s waspish look turned on his brother. He arched an eyebrow as the younger Kaiba tried and failed to suppress a devious smirk.

“We have an errand to run before we get lunch,” Mokuba answered pleasantly, though a knavish twinkle in his eyes gave him away. “I’m doing you a favor, Nii-sama. Any good investor sees his investments through, right?”

“Since when did I invest in middle-class real estate?” Seto returned, glancing with disdain at the neighborhood rolling by. “Mokuba, _where_ are we going?”

“Oh, this isn’t a real-estate investment. It’s a medical one.”

That lone eyebrow crept up Seto’s face again. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure you remember a certain peculiar patient that was admitted to Kaiba Corp.’s special medical facility about a month back, right?” Mokuba couldn’t contain the grin anymore; it spread toothily across his face. “This particular patient was _quite_ a memorable one, even for the most specialized doctors—they said he was in perfect health, when he clearly wasn’t!”

Seto’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

“I sure do, Nii-sama. I’ve gotten word that he’s awake now.” The impish look faded, slowly replacing itself with a serious, contemplative expression. Mokuba lowered his eyes. “We need to figure out what happened, Nii-sama. Now that he’s going to be better, we should ask him.” The boy’s eyes rose again to meet his brother’s. “Besides…if you ever want to duel him again, like you said you did--”

“Of _course_ I do.”

“Then we need to make sure he’s okay…Nii-sama, we’re the only ones who can help.”

The expression on Mokuba’s face gave Seto pause. It was that mournful look again, that sad, pleading look filled with admiration, compassion, and the longing for acceptance.

Seto closed his eyes again. That look was so hard to escape; had he been one to take to such fanciful notions, he could have sworn that it was still hammering at his brow even with his eyes closed.

Hard as Seto was, he was not, and would never want to be, immune to his little brother. His voice was softer as he spoke, the edge slowly bleeding from it. “You’ve been calling them, haven’t you.” It wasn’t really a question.

At first, Mokuba looked at his feet, as if taking a reprimand. But he looked back up again a moment later, wearing a proud grin. “Every other day,” he said. “I’ve visited a few times too.”

“Hmph.”

The brothers were spared from another long stretch of silence as the limousine purred to a halt. The voice of the driver issued from the front seat. “We’re here, Mokuba-sama.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Mokuba didn’t wait for the driver to come open the door for him; he was out of the car and on the curb before his brother even had the chance to open a door. His gaze roved up the white outer walls of the hospital complex to the trademark KC logo emblazoned at the top. Mokuba turned just as his brother was getting out of the limo, an eager spring to his step. “Coming, Nii-sama?”

“Mm,” Seto uttered affirmatively, but he took a moment to look over the building. He hadn’t actually visited this particular investment yet, but the paperwork had been signed long ago. Of course he bought a hospital building and put his name on it. The way it had been underfunded before he stepped in was _shameful_ ; his city needed to run smoothly, and Seto meant to make it so. Besides--putting his company’s name on a hospital was great publicity.

* * *

_Ding._

Mutou Sugoroku jolted as the elevator doors in the lobby of the Kaiba Corporation Special Treatment Unit slid open. He gave a second jolt, nearly dropping his cup of vending machine coffee all over his lap, when he saw not just the exuberant smile of the younger Kaiba, but the cold stare of the older one.

“Mokuba-kun!” Sugoroku greeted lightly as Mokuba scampered up. “Good to see you again! I see you, er, brought your brother…?” The little old man cast a nervous glance up at Seto. One didn’t simply forget being dueled nearly to the point of cardiac arrest.

Seto scoffed faintly as he regarded Sugorku. “So you’re still alive, are you old man?”

“Ah, sorry about my brother, Jii-san,” Mokuba cut in, bowing to the older gentleman. “We were wondering if it was okay to…”

“To see Atem-kun?” Sugoroku’s glance flickered up to Seto’s face again. “ _Both_ of you?”

Kaiba blinked at the use of the Egyptian name. He frowned. It was odd hearing the other half of Yuugi referred to that way. He’d long known that there were two sides to the boy named Yuugi--one, mild-mannered and easily ignored, the other, the true King of Games. What was hard to swallow was that the other personality was in fact not simply a facet, but a unique soul with an identity all his own--and a 3000-year-dead Pharaoh, no less. But he couldn’t deny evidence he witnessed himself: he’d _seen_ the Eye of Wdjat separate one soul from the other as they stood before the Doors of the Dead. Watching the doors to the afterlife open had been a hell of an experience, too...to say nothing of the glimpses of the faces he saw on the other side...

He banished the thoughts from his mind as he caught himself wondering too much. The past didn’t matter. The only important thing was the future.

Seto snorted derisively down at Sugoroku, folding his arms imperiously. “What are you, the gatekeeper? I _own_ this hospital, so I’ll do as I please here.”

Sugoroku snorted right back up at him. “No, I’m just out here giving the kids some space while I enjoy my coffee, and I’ll be giving the boys a ride home later. I’m only surprised _you’re_ showing so much compassion, Kaiba.”

Seto’s upper lip curled back in a sneer. “I’m here protecting an investment, so spare me the lecture, old man.” He turned abruptly and headed up the hall towards Atem’s room, coat flaring as he moved. He heard Mokuba sigh loudly and apologize for him--again--before his brother’s footsteps scampered after him.

The sounds of voices drifted through the door just as Seto stepped up to it. He heard two similar, but distinct voices: one a bright, teasing tenor, the other a smooth, amused baritone.

“That takes care of your knight.” 

“Ah. Good one, Aibou. But it looks like you didn’t watch your queen closely enough.”

Seto’s eyes widened—chess?

His eyes flashed to Mokuba, and found his brother already looking up at him with a soft, nostalgic grin. In the privacy of the hallway, he allowed his own features to gentle, offering his brother a small but genuine smile in return. Their childhood, both in the orphanage and under Gozaburo, hadn’t been easy, but those afternoons spent playing chess together were memories they both treasured to this day.

“C’mon Yuugi—no way you’re done yet!”

Jounochi’s voice came through the cracked door, effectively ending the small moment between brothers. Seto turned back to the door, opening it abruptly and without bothering to knock. He heard a startled squawk and muffled thud, noticing the green jacketed, blonde-haired blurr falling off the bed only out of the corner of his eye-- _Jounochi_. He likewise ignored the startled calls of his name coming from around the room—brushing them off as easily as one might ignore the twittering of sparrows. All his attention was on the current occupant—occupants—on the bed before him.

As though someone had laid a mirror before him, two Yuugis sat with their legs crossed on top the covers of the hospital bed—a chess board laid out between them—with two identical expressions of surprise and curiosity turned to his entrance. No, perhaps it was a funhouse mirror, subtly warped until the original image was unrecognizable. The one at the foot of the bed, holding the taken white knight in one hand, seemed at first the more familiar of the two with his pale skin and dark clothing. But his eyes were wide and soft, his expression slightly startled, and perhaps gently admonishing at the sudden intrusion. Seto’s eyes immediately leapt over to the second Yuugi at the head of the bed--darker skinned, with the gold in his hair more prominent—and froze. For all that he was garbed in the baby blue of a hospital gown, that one’s eyes were somehow older and harder, pinning him with that familiar wine-red gaze Seto had seen aimed at himself many times from across a duel arena. So that was the Other Yuugi, the Pharaoh. _Atem_.

“Hey! Ever heard of knockin’, moneybags?!” Jounochi had righted himself on the floor from where he had fallen from the bed in response to Seto’s entrance. The older Kaiba brother gave him an apathetic once-over even as Mokuba bounded over spouting laughing platitudes about thick skulls preventing head injuries.

“Hm.” Forgoing any apology, or even deigning to offer a greeting to any of the gathered individuals, Seto strode across the room to stand by the bedside, right next to Anzu who was observing the game curiously, and let his eyes sweep across the board, cataloging every piece and potential outcome.

“He has you on the run,” he said, eyes locked on the milder Yuugi, “I’d reassess if I were you, or you’ll lose both _your_ knights in the next two turns.”

Yuugi balked, gaze returning to the chessboard. “What?!” he cried, searching the board for proof of what Kaiba had predicted.

The Other— no, Atem, smirked, but said nothing. To speak would confirm his strategy and he clearly had no intention of losing that edge.

“And _you_ ,” Seto said, turning to Atem, “are so focused on taking out his more nimble pieces that you haven’t even noticed that he’s herding your queen straight into a trap.” Seto couldn't help but derive a sense of satisfaction at the sudden wide-eyed startlement in the eyes of his greatest rival as the young man shot forward to reexamine the game.

“Ah…it’s good to see you, Kaiba…” Anzu smiled politely up at the young man, trying her hardest to be cordial despite his egregious violation of her personal space. “I have to ask, though…what’s the reason for your visit…?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m overseeing an investment.” He pinned Atem under his gaze. “I’m footing the bill for all of this.” He gestured around the hospital room. “I can’t have you passing out on me when you finally give me the rematch I’m owed.”

Atem’s flabbergasted look was shared with the other occupants in the room-- including one lanky, white-haired boy who leaned forward in his seat from behind Honda’s broad frame, and squeaked, “ _Really_?” Seto barely spared him a passing glance. Right; Bakura Ryou existed. He frequently forgot.

Atem didn’t look away. He swallowed thickly; it was a moment before he found his voice again, and when he spoke, it was softer than Seto had ever heard from him. “Kaiba...thank you. Really.”

Seto couldn’t have that. He scoffed, looking down his nose at the little Pharaoh. 

“Look at you. Pathetic, that glassy look in your eyes. It’s shameful, seeing the King of Games reduced to this. If you think you can get away with laying about in such a shriveled, defeated state, think again. You _will not_ get out of dueling me, so you had best pull yourself together, Pharaoh. To be honest, the sight of you in such a state disgusts me, but Mokuba’s driver wouldn’t be dissuaded from coming here.”

Yuugi stared up at Seto. His face, which had originally been wrinkled in frustration at Kaiba’s cold words, softened. Ugh, did the little runt think this was supposed to be a supportive pep talk? Gross.

Atem returned Seto’s disparagement with amusement, folding his arms and looking up at him with the same kind of cavalier smirk that Seto had seen in countless duels. “Begging your pardon, Your Eminence,” he drawled. “I’ll spend my next coma trying harder to not disappoint you.”

“Hmph. See that you do.” 

“You had better NOT go into any more comas, Yuu-- Atem!” Jounochi interjected, clenching a fist. “But if you do, I’ll know who to blame!” 

Seto merely scoffed at Jounochi’s glower. “No one asked your opinion, mutt.”

“KAIBA I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK ABOUT MY MOM LIKE--”  
  
“No one’s talking about your mom, Jounochi,” Anzu sighed.

“--JUST ‘CAUSE I’M HALF AMERICAN DOESN’T MAKE ME A--”  
  
“That’s _exactly_ what it makes you,” Seto cut in. 

“Kaiba-kun, _enough_.” Seto’s gaze flashed to Yuugi as the shrimp’s quiet, brusque words cast a silence over the room. Yuugi seemed to regret his tone, though, as _everyone_ was now staring at him. He flushed a little. “...Please?”

“...Anyway, Kaiba,” Atem continued their earlier thread of conversation, but his eyes were not on Seto. They glittered with pride as he smiled at Yuugi. “You came just in time. We’re waiting for the final word from the doctors before I’m allowed to go home.”

Seto arched one eyebrow. “‘Home’?”

Yuugi nodded firmly, reaching over the chess board and grabbing Atem’s hand with a distinctly protective air. “Mm-hm! He’s coming home with me! Jii-chan and I already talked to my mom about it...Mama had a hard time wrapping her head around all the magic stuff, but she’s okay with everything.” He looked up at Seto, suddenly challenging, as if Seto were the authority figure about to insist that Atem do anything but go home with Yuugi. Seto opened his mouth to make it clear he couldn’t care less about where different members of the nerd herd lived-- or to at least tell the Pharaoh to get that schmoopy look off his face as he gazed at Yuugi, it was making him sick--and scowled as he was cut off.

“It’s great that you guys get to stay together,” this time it was Honda who butt into the conversation, “but if you’re sharing a room, does that mean you’re sharing a bed too? Wouldn’t Atem be happier with his own bed, or a futon, or--”  
  
“Uh _huh_ ,” Jounochi cut in, waggling his eyebrows knavishly at Honda. “You wouldn’t think it was weird for two guys to be sharing a bed if it was you and Otogi!”

“SHUT UP, you little bastard!” Whatever Jounochi had to say next was garbled by Honda stepping over and clamping him into a headlock. Honda’s cheeks burned--apparently Jounochi had hit the mark.

“I did _not_. Need to know _any_ of that,” Seto barked over their caterwauling. “I regret even _insinuating_ that I asked. Now would you idiots either _focus_ or _shut up_?” He fixed his cold gaze on Atem. “What did the doctors say? How long until you’re up and running again?”

Crimson eyes blinked back up at him, a bit baffled. “They...said that I was essentially fine, aside from the fever. And the coma. Neither of which they could explain.” He glanced over at Yuugi, his apprehension palpable; he didn’t seem to know all the details, and wasn’t keen to be put on the spot.

Yuugi nodded, seamlessly accepting the baton pass. “The doctor with the specialty in alternative medicine was the only one with a theory that made any sense. Everyone else agreed that the weird thing is that your body doesn’t have any wear and tear on it, Atem-- not even calluses on your hands or feet. The alternative medicine lady was the only one who didn’t make fun of us when we told the truth...she thinks that the coma and the fever were ‘cause your body was struggling to catch up. In a way, you were just _born_...and you had seventeen years of aging to catch up on. And since your body has treated it as a growth stage, there's been no muscular atrophy from lying in place so long.” He shrugged, and squeezed Atem’s hand that he had captured earlier, looking into his eyes. “...That’s a _lot_ of strain to go through in a month, _mou hitori no boku_.”

Seto scoffed, loudly enough to pull the two sappy fools out of gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

A chipper voice from the corner chimed in. “No more ridiculous than the idea of being possessed by a 3000-year-old spirit. Or the idea of golden artifacts with dark powers created by human sacrifice. Or the entire concept of Shadow Games. Or how about a jet plane shaped like a Blue Eyes White Dragon?”

“Enough.” Seto glowered at Ryou, scowling at the pasty boy’s sweet, passive-aggressive smile. Little shit. He turned his scowl to Yuugi. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Yuugi’s tone was diplomatic, but somehow quick as a whip as he answered. “You mean how long until the Other Me is well enough to duel you? He’ll duel you when _he’s_ ready to.” That intense sense of protectiveness overtook the little duelist again, a heavy contrast to his usual polite, friendly demeanor. “And not a _moment_ sooner.”

Seto could feel his ire rising. Yuugi had obviously grown, gotten stronger-- he had to admit that he was a _little_ impressed that the shrimp had grown a backbone-- but Yuugi had _no_ right to deny Seto what he was owed. 

“You wanna know something _else_ ridiculous?” Mokuba’s tone was light, but as Seto looked over at him, he could feel his little brother’s apprehension. It was the same nervous look Mokuba bore whenever he was apologizing for his elder brother’s behavior. “A 3000-year-old spirit suddenly getting a _brand new body_ out of nowhere.” He swallowed as he realized the room’s eyes were on him. “Can… we talk about that..? Please? We’d really like to know _what_ exactly happened in Egypt…” His eyes shifted over to the Pharaoh in question. “We can’t know how to help you if we don’t know what’s going on. What if you get sick again?”

Atem’s eyes fell to the abandoned chess game. He picked up the little black bishop he’d captured from Yuugi and fiddled with it, aimless, uncertain. After a few beats of silence, he shook his head.

“I don’t know what happened.” His voice was _soft_ again; it made Seto cringe. Had gaining a body made a weakling out of the man he’d respected as his rival? Or was he _always_ like this outside of a duel? The second thought was unacceptable. He opened his mouth to say so, but the Pharaoh continued-- quiet though his voice was, notes of authority were still threaded through, enough to command the room. “I was about to walk through the doors to the afterlife, and I thought I heard…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “...And then, pain.” He paused, and swallowed, fighting back the memory. “...I think I remember being dimly aware of things after that… just faint dreams, probably. The next thing I remember, I was here.”

Seto let out a sharp sigh, cutting through the grim tension in the room, and earning the irate stares of Jounochi, Anzu, Yuugi-- he was sure the others were glowering at him too, but he didn’t bother to look.

“Got somethin’ to say, ya snob?” Jounochi challenged.

“Useless.” Seto glowered at Atem, then at Jounochi, then at anyone who dared meet his eyes. “You’re lucky I bother to associate with you dweebs. I took the liberty of researching this matter and coming up with an _actual_ theory of what happened. You’re welcome. Like I said-- Pharaoh, you’re not allowed to collapse in the middle of our rematch, whether it’s from sickness or some bullshit related to having an artificial body.”

Atem blinked owlishly-- totally taken aback. “A _what_?”

“I’m talking now. Time to listen.” He folded his arms, and took in the room in a sweeping glance, meeting each of their eyes to make sure they knew who was in charge here.

“Let’s start with what we _know_ , shall we? The soul of Atem here has been squatting inside Mutou Yuugi’s body for several years. Somehow, Atem is a Pharaoh that should have died over three thousand years ago but didn’t. These things can’t be denied; there’s too much evidence to support them.” Seto was fully prepared to plow over everyone’s astonishment that he had actually _admitted_ to the existence of something supernatural, and plow on he did, much to Jounochi’s consternation, who had already opened his mouth to let fly an obligatory quip. He snapped his mouth shut with a scowl as Seto continued.

“Then in Egypt, the soul of the Pharaoh is released from Mutou Yuugi’s body, but before he can actually walk through the doors, he has to be defeated in a duel. A stupid rule, but we’ll ignore that for the moment. So Yuugi duels the Pharaoh, manages to pull off the impossible and take out all three of his God cards, and beats him by the skin of his teeth. Which brings us to the important moment. The Pharaoh is defeated, the doors open, and he’s about to step through them and leave forever—denying me my right to a rematch—” Seto added with a slightly venomous glare at the Pharaoh in question, “—when suddenly, some loser who thinks he’s a ventriloquist tells the Pharaoh that he doesn’t get to leave.”

Atem didn’t seem ruffled by the fact that Seto was referring to him in the third person even though he was sitting right in front of him, but at that point his dark eyes widened. “So you all heard that?”

Seto raised an eyebrow at his rival. “Thought you were hallucinating, did you? Is that a recurring phenomenon for you?”

Yuugi dropped his face into one hand, kneading the bridge of his nose. Atem stared for a moment, expression caught between being outright offended or merely exasperated, but eventually settled for rolling his eyes. “Just continue.”

Seto did so, picking up his narrative as if no one had said anything. “And so the Pharaoh screams like someone’s ripping off both of his arms, and falls to the ground, unconscious. His friends valiantly rush to his aid— if he were conscious I’m sure some friendship speeches would have ensued— to find that their spirit friend is no longer a spirit, but a living, breathing lump of flesh just like the rest of us.” He paused, running his cool gaze over the other occupants of the room, and when no outcry or particularly excessive displays of emotion were forthcoming, decided that they were finally focused enough to hear the truth of what must have occurred.

“Clearly, the only logical explanation is that of a false body. A person’s identity is made up of their memories, so when the Pharaoh separated from Yuugi all his ‘data’-- his knowledge and experiences-- were free-floating in space. Someone only needed the right kind of receiver in order to snatch it from the gates, but in order to keep the data accessible, it needed a vessel. My theory,” Seto continued, eyes fixed on Atem’s, “is that someone wanted that information badly enough that they went through the trouble of creating a body that had a significant amount of Mutou Yuugi’s DNA in its composition. Then, they predicted the moment that they’d best be able to trap you in that body-- in other words the moment when your consciousness was removed from Yuugi’s body. They knew in advance you’d be at that temple-- honestly you dweebs never shut up about all that destiny bullshit-- and managed to conceal the waiting body where they knew your consciousness would pass through. Now, frankly, the science that managed to capture that sort of data and lock it in a novel vessel is beyond even me, but whatever it was, it worked, and the results are sitting right in front of me.”

Atem did not respond, instead staring blankly at his hands which had fisted into the pale hospital sheets at some point while Seto had been speaking. The rest of the nerd herd were equally silent, gazing at him with blended expressions of concern and confusion. Seto resisted rolling his eyes at their inability to keep up with his dumbed-down explanation, but really what _had_ he expected? Yuugi and Atem were intelligent enough, but they were too easily swept up in useless wallowing. Stifling an irritated sigh, he decided it was necessary for him to _continue to spell it out for them._

“So that means that: one, your enemy hates you enough that they want to kill you themselves; two, that they have an immense amount of resources or else they’d never be able to even think of a cloning project; three, that their intel is so incredible that not only have they probably been following your every move for years, but they knew the _only_ place where your spirit would finally be on its own; and four, that they’re _incredibly_ smart, because only a superb brain would be able to invent a technology that could catch a data cloud like that and implant it in a crafted vessel.” And still, no response from the others gathered in the hospital room. By this point it was becoming increasingly obvious that they still not only weren’t understanding what happened, but they continued to be utterly and pathetically blind to how serious their situation was.

“That list of qualifications means that this ventriloquist is going to be nearly impossible to find. People with that level of money and power have the money and power needed to make themselves completely unknown to the rest of the world. It’s like trying to catch the wind in your hands, believe me.”

“Wait--” ugh, what did Jounochi want now? If he had to dumb this down any further Seto was going to be concerned for his own IQ-- “you mean to tell me, you, _Kaiba,_ have been trying to track down this guy the whole time?” Jounochi dropped the confrontational set of his shoulders and smiled big and stupid at Seto. “S’nice to know you were worried, jerk.”

Seto tensed, eyes cold on the irritating blonde who managed to only be perceptive in ways that were _unrelated to the task at hand._ This wasn’t about his own inexplicable feelings of _concern_ for these pain-in-the-asses, this was about seriously dangerous technology. He felt a slight warmth rising to his cheeks-- frustration, no doubt-- and was about to tell that useless nobody to _shut up the adults were talking_ when--

“I think there’s some holes in your theory, Kaiba.”

Mazaki’s voice was quiet, but firm from where she had been seated beside him near the bed. Seto arched a brow in response. _This_ one _,_ to his knowledge, had never really done much of anything aside from make motivational speeches and scold the mutt when he got too loud. Sure she was easily the most mentally stable of the group aside from Honda, but he failed to see how she thought she had a better grasp on the situation than him. Still, it couldn’t hurt to hear her out, if only to spare himself Mokuba’s disappointed look for being mean to one of his friends.

“First of all, we have to consider that you don’t believe in magic. Honestly, do you even hear yourself talk sometimes? All that complexity-- planning, cloning, technology, whatever.” She looked up at Kaiba, blue eyes sharp and focused on his. “Surely someone as logical as you has heard of Occam’s razor, right? _The simplest solution is most likely the right one._ After everything you’ve seen, everything that's been done, it blows my mind that you would go through such hoops to keep refusing to admit that not only does magic exist, it is very much involved in this situation.”

Atem had finally managed to pry his eyes off whatever fascinating world he had found in the wrinkles of his sheets to watch Anzu in wonderment. At his side, Yuugi was smiling, his soft gaze proud as he observed. 

But she wasn’t finished yet.

“What happened to Atem happened way too fast to be anything but magic. He was a spirit, and suddenly he wasn’t. Things don’t just flicker into existence unless magical forces are involved. There’s no way some mad scientist managed to lie in wait, and fling a clone into Atem’s exact position and simultaneously trap his essence into it.”

“But you’re right about a few things. There’s no way this could have happened unless whoever did it knew we were going to be in that temple. It was an ambush they had probably been setting up for, as you said, years. That means either,” Anzu put up another finger for each of her options, “One, that somebody has been following us around for all these years, biding their time for a chance to destroy Atem, and, having gotten wind of our journey to the temple, set up the trap almost as soon as we exited the Memory World; or two, that whoever did this simply knew that eventually, Atem would have to make his way to that Temple, and when he did, he’d be vulnerable.”

Honda frowned, “No way someone could have been following us the whole time! We would have noticed!”

Bakura let out a nervous giggle at the same time as Seto scoffed, “You give yourself too much credit.”

“No but really,” Honda insisted, “We’ve been in some really tight spots. And by tight I also mean narrow. I’m pretty sure we would have noticed a tagalong.”

“Not to mention,” Anzu said pointedly, “that we learned a lot about Atem’s destiny at Battle City. Are you really going to say that you didn’t have constant and complete knowledge of everyone on the blimp at every moment?”

“I’m not,” Seto returned blithely, “because that wouldn’t be true.”

“Actually…” Ryou leaned forward awkwardly from where he was seated behind Honda, before frowning, and scooted his chair forward in a hideous grinding of metal against linoleum. All eyes turned to Ryou, even as he himself made a pained face at the noise. Nonetheless, once he had settled back in the chair, he put his hand briefly to his chest, and then continued speaking as though he had never been interrupted by his own chair. “Considering that we’re talking about magic here, maybe we need to consider a wider range of supernatural possibilities.”

That seemed to get Atem’s attention. Seto watched his rival’s wide crimson eyes-- had the Pharaoh been anything _other_ than wide-eyed or depressed this entire time? It was bordering on unsettling-- swing over to Ryou. “What kind of possibilities?”

“Well… we’ve seen that magic-- Shadow Magic, anyway-- bends to the will of the caster in all kinds of ways. We’ve seen it make different games, _harmless_ games, into really tangible life-or-death situations.” Unconsciously, Ryou rubbed a faint scar on the back of his hand, and Seto watched Atem’s expression pinch and Yuugi’s eyes go dark with pity. He wondered what the hell _that_ was about. “So from that, we can assume that the same kind of spells that we _see_ in those games _can_ be cast in real life. And in tabletop games, there _are_ high level spells that can be cast, left alone for an unlimited amount of time, and do various things when someone walks into them.”

“Like real life trap cards?” Jounochi hazarded, brow furrowed.

Ryou nodded like a teacher in a lecture hall. “Exactly like traps. And one of these effects could be like… well, an alarm system, for lack of a better phrase. So, all the guy with the creepy voice had to do is set up a series of traps in places where he thought Atem might be, and once one went off, it would alert him to where Atem was.”

“Okay but what does it _mean?!”_ Jounochi groaned, tossing his hands in the air as though it would somehow call down a blessing of understanding, “What’s this guy’s _game?_ ”

The white-haired teen dropped his gaze, back to looking meek and uncertain. “I-- I’m not really sure.” His hand had returned to his chest, a white-knuckled fisting of his shirt, and his eyes seemed far away. “When I was… when _he_ was…” He sighed, slowly relaxing the tension in his hand. Seriously, what the _hell_ was he talking about?

“You have a great deal of power and importance, Pharaoh,” he said finally, staring at Atem with quiet intensity, “and that makes you a valuable piece. I don’t know what it is they want from you-- if its information, like Kaiba-kun suggested-- or if they simply want you to suffer like they said back in the temple, but they want you. And since they went through all the trouble of setting those traps and putting you in a living body, but still let us take you back to Japan with us?” Ryou shook his head. “They aren’t done with you yet. They’ll come back for you.”

Seto could almost _see_ the responses forming in the minds of the nerd herd as the pasty geek laid out this newest piece of ominous data. Watching the mutt in particular try to _think_ was painful, so he was almost relieved when a soft sound broke the silence in the room-- a scoff so harsh it was almost a stifled snarl. Seto’s gaze flickered down to Atem to see the Pharaoh clenching his hands in the hospital bed sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles grotesquely bloodless. The grimace on his face-- tense, _furious_ \-- was terribly familiar, and for all that Seto was glad that the Pharaoh’s earlier show of weakness seemed to have burned away, he was _also_ secretly glad that that grimace wasn’t aimed at _him_.

“...then I have to leave.” Atem’s words were quiet and bitten off, nearly inaudible, but the effect on the room was _explosive_. 

“You can’t be serious!”

“ _WHAT?!_ Not a chance in hell!”

“After everything we’ve been through together--”

“W-wait, you’re going to _what?_ ”

Seto could hardly pick out any individual thread from the tangle of voices and scraping of chairs as people jumped to their feet, but he did catch the admonishing murmur of ‘ _mou hitori no boku_ ’ from Yuugi on the bed beside him. Unlike the others who were staring desperately at the Pharaoh’s shadowed face, Yuugi’s eyes were fixed on Atem’s fingers-- dug into the hospital sheets like twisted claws-- and his own fingers moved with surprising deftness to soothe and untangle them. Like vines reaching for the sun, Atem’s fingers threaded softly through Yuugi’s, even as his gaze snapped up, the tension slowly draining from his face as though the other duelist’s attention was a safe haven from this storm. And frankly, this was about as much as Seto could stand, between the sappy bullshit and the clamour still rising in volume and fervency in the background. Would it kill those two to exist outside of their little bubble for more than two minutes at a time?

“ _ENOUGH!”_

Seto felt more than saw Mokuba flinch from where he was standing next to him as his roar cut through the cacophony in the room, silencing the bawling herd. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and instead sent every inch of his ire outward at the other occupants of the room.

But before Seto could tear into this pack of morons again, Atem spoke up, his voice back to being measured and slow. Commanding. “You heard Kaiba,” he began, meeting all the eyes fixed on him resolutely, imploringly. 

“And Anzu, and Ryou. You’re _all_ correct. The enemy has seemingly unlimited resources-- money and magic both. To be able to maneuver _around the world_ setting up these traps-- magical traps powerful enough to give me a _body_ ?!” Seto could almost hear the Pharaoh’s teeth grinding together as he grimaced, eyes squeezed shut. “No matter _what_ they want, this is an _incredibly_ powerful enemy. We’re dealing with another _Dartz_ , here. And I am not…I will _not_ …”

Seto scowled. He remembered what a wreck the Pharaoh had been when Yuugi’s soul had been taken. He would _not_ allow another breakdown like that, and was about to tell him so, when Yuugi spoke. 

Giving Atem’s captive hands a tug, he said, “That’s not going to happen again.” Yuugi’s voice lacked the raw, inborn power the Pharaoh wielded so naturally, but his gentle voice still somehow carried the confidence of royal command. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Yuugi spoke as though by speaking it would come into being, each word a promise. Atem seemed to believe him for a moment. Hell, even _Seto_ wanted to believe him.

But Atem pried his gaze away, shoulders bowing under some invisible strain as he withdrew.

“You don’t know that,” he rasped. Seto thought he saw Yuugi flinch away from the low, almost desperate intensity of Atem’s voice. “But we _do_ know that they’re after _me_ , not any of you.” He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, and released it in a choked curse. “This was supposed to _end_. It was supposed to have ended with the Ceremonial Duel. Things were supposed to be back to _normal_ now; you’re supposed to be living your _lives_ , not…” His exhale shuddered. “I was supposed to have _ended_ this at the Doors.”

This time, Seto was _sure_ he saw Yuugi flinch.

Jounochi’s voice quavered, on the edge of tears-- whether from hurt or anger, it was hard to tell. “You sayin’ you _wanted_ to...to _die_?”

Atem shook his head, a sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes. “ _No,_ Jounochi. I’m--I was... _already_ dead, and I didn’t _want_ to leave, but it was never about what I _wanted_.” For a split second he looked lost, lost and terribly, _terribly_ young, before he recovered his steely composure. “And it isn’t now, either. But I can’t put any of you in danger any more. This won’t be like the other times-- I can’t just let you talk me into getting yourselves involved. This isn’t Duelist Kingdom. This isn’t Battle City. This has nothing to do with you--it’s just _my_ safety on the line, so _I’m_ going to make a choice.”

“ _Nothing_ ? Really, _mou hitori no boku_?”

Atem’s eyes flickered over to Yuugi’s, and for a moment, the Pharaoh looked almost uncomfortable, as though the nickname, and the reminder that he had once been considered merely another aspect of Yuugi, was suddenly difficult to bear. And, Seto supposed, given all those platitudes he had spouted about being separate people before attempting to cross over to the afterlife, perhaps it was.

Yuugi seemed to pick up on this new discomfort and repeated himself, a statement more than a question, “Really, Atem? _Nothing_ to do with us? You’re our friend. We _want_ to help you. We will _always_ want to help you.”

“Yeah, buddy!” Jounochi spoke up, the tears having been hastily scrubbed back, but still lingering in his throat. “You’d do the same for us, wouldn’t ya?”

Honda groaned dramatically, “Honestly, this whole thing is getting old. It’s embarrassing. We’re _going_ to help-- end of story.”

Leaning over to flash the back of her hand cheerily in front of Atem’s face, Anzu smiled broadly. “We’re stronger together, and we’ve proved that time and time again!”

Even Ryou smiled and tossed in some cheery agreement-- frankly, Seto had stopped paying attention. Once you’ve heard one friendship speech, you’ve heard them all. Still, he supposed it at least seemed to be working on Atem, whose face had gone soft and open, a quiet smile gracing his lips.

“Nii-sama and I will help as well!” cheered Mokuba, and Seto felt compelled to argue simply for the sake of it, but decided to remain silent. Honestly, it wasn’t worth getting dragged into what was rapidly gearing up to be a group hug or something.

Seto eyed the door, strongly considering slipping out and leaving the nerd herd to their love fest-- but he still had a reason to be here. He’d checked on his investment and indulged Mokuba, making sure that the Pharaoh wasn’t going to drop dead on him. But he wasn’t through yet.

“If you nerds are _done_ ,” Kaiba raised his voice to cut above the chatter, “Mokuba and I still haven’t had lunch yet, and I have places to be. Now that we’ve established that the Pharaoh isn’t going to drop dead tomorrow, that you nerds have a _problem_ , and since I’ve spent my valuable time and money researching that problem for you-- you’re _welcome--_ I think it’s time you get to the crux of the matter.” He leveled Atem with a demanding stare. “What _now_?”

When no response was forthcoming, Seto let out a pointed sigh. He scowled at the Pharaoh’s bewildered look. “I _thought_ as much. You owe me for going out of my way to do research for you. So to pay me back, here’s the plan: You,” he pointed at Atem, “and you,” and at Yuugi, “come back to KaibaCorp with me to help compose an algorithm that’ll search for this culprit-- and while the numbers crunch, a few _duels_ are in order--”

“Kaiba-kun!”

Seto stopped short, blinking.

“For the last time: _He is in a hospital bed_.” Yuugi’s gaze was molten steel; his voice crackled with authority. “Your grudge match can _wait_.” The duelist pulled in a breath and let it out in a gusting sigh, eyes closed. When he spoke again, the heat had left his voice, but none of the authority.

“Thank you for your help. Really. I cannot stress that enough. But, not only do we think you’re on the wrong track with this, you really, _really_ just need to be patient. _Really_. We will get to dueling when we take care of the person who _threatened to torture Atem_.”

Seto was silent for another moment, before his face folded into a scowl.

“ _Fine_ ,” he spat, taking in the whole room with his venomous glare. “You Neanderthals are on your own. C’mon, Mokuba. I need a fillet mignon to wash out the taste of _peasant_.” Seto whirled, coat flaring like dragon wings, and held the door open for Mokuba long enough for his brother to make a hasty bow and skitter out of the room.

“Taste?” he heard Jounochi pipe up from behind him. The _cheek_ in the mutt’s voice made him bristle. “You didn’t _lick_ one of us when we weren’t looking, didja?”

Seto’s only response was to slam the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Kaiba tries to move the plot along, and only succeeds in spawning the longest chunk of dialogue that I have planned in this fic.
> 
> HUGE THANKS to Tikkun for this chapter; SO MUCH editing and revision and rewrites and Tikkun writing out whole chunks etc. went into this chapter. I barely recognize it from the 2008 original (thank God). Also, anything that looks like science is Tikkun's. I am. Not a science. She is. She is ALL the science.
> 
> Bob Iger is the CEO of Disney (er, he was at the time I wrote the original draft of this, apparently he stepped down like 5 months ago). In case ya'll missed that reference. Cause I mean. Of course Disney would try to buy out Kaibaland. (I say this as a former Disney employee and with all love and respect.)
> 
> Me calling a phone's hang-up button the "release button" shows you how many years I worked in a call center, ahehe.
> 
> Trying to pick between "Jounouchi," "Jonouchi," or "Jounochi" on how to spell the mook's name was a hard one. I reserve the right to change my mind and go back and edit every instance of his name at any time.
> 
> In this house we love and respect Mazaki Anzu, accept no substitutes.


End file.
